(Untitled)

[ohdamsel]

 As a Shakesperean ingenue, Ophelia is apt to wandering around looking rather wide-eyed at everything.

She is still trying to come to terms with the fact that she is not dead, but, ah, alive. Still, it isn't something she would prefer to discuss-- after all, talking about one's death? Awkward. And uncomfortable. And may spark certain things in the

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[priorphilip]

Have a kindly looking priest, on the young side. He's carrying a small stack of books, but pauses to ask, "Are you looking for something, my child?"

[ohdamsel]

"I know not," Ophelia replies softly, staring off for a moment before glancing to him.

[priorphilip]

"Well, then you may not be apt to know when you've found it," he observes, kindly.

[permanent_blur]

rosencrantz has a kite! it's the silk one shaped like a butterfly he made with curio, and he's taking it outside where the wind is wonderful, the sky unerringly blue -- like a day of spring in winter (but then, spring is coming). and he knows who he ought to take with him. "my lady!"

[ohdamsel]

Ophelia jumped, clearly startled, and turns around to smile nervously at Rosencrantz, her cheeks red.

"Yes?" she asks softly, twisting her hair around her fingers.

[permanent_blur]

kite still slung over his shoulder, spool still in his hand, he gives her a ragged bow, like a boy playing gentleman. "my lady, an it pleaseth thee, wilt thou come and take the air with me?" he raises his head grinning (and slips back into modern english). "i've got something to show you."

[ohdamsel]

Ophelia beams and curtsies gracefully, bowing her head as well. "Take the air? Oh, goodness!" she gasps before nodding eagerly.

"Kindly show me, sir!"